At the begging of each academic year, I have the habit of writing a blog piece about how I feel. It is quite sad that this will be my last piece as an undergraduate, as now I am entering my final year of study. Let’s not dwell on that now, thoguh, let’s get down to business: what it’s like to enter your 3rd year.
There is something truly special in being a 3rd year, a mix of thrill and despair, very hard to summarise. Firstly, it feels like it has been ages ago since you were a fresher, which you acknowledge with bitter taste, because you realise that it will always feel like ages ago since you were a fresher and there is no turning back for that. Secondly, you realise that you are getting close to becoming a fully fledged adult, which you find both terrifying but also exciting.
Another weird feeling is how you are now feeling a bit smug for having got so far, yet that smugness is paired with disdain for the new, and by a longing for the fresher days. I never thought I could feel anything special as a 3rd year, apart from my age, but compared to my second year, I am having more thoughts about the days in which I was a fresher. I tend to think about it as humanity’s power to romanticise the past, which my brain is probably doing. Being in your last year is great in so many ways. You have great friends, a better idea of what you want for the future, some work experience, and you are just an overall more capable adult.
Yet despite all that, I find myself longing for days where I did not have responsibilities and say to myself: “Good times”.